Master of the Dragon Dance
by flaafo
Summary: Pirate story, involving China, Hong Kong, and England. Longest oneshot I've done to date, whoop whoop!


The sea salt, thick in the air, burned the boy's nostrils. He did not mind it, nor did he mind the screaming of the gulls. It was all comforting, in a way, to listen to them. But he only heard the sounds of sea birds near shore. He was far from that. Waves had replaced gulls, and he rocked his head to the sounds of their crashing against the ship.

"One…Two…Three…"

The boy ran his hand along the railing of the ship, memorizing each and every detail with his fingers. The warped wood from stormy nights, the splinters from a run-in with other ships, even the holes from the termites gnawing away was memorized. He continued his path upwards along the ship, climbing up the steps and over to the back of the boat. He could almost touch the sail. Almost.

Stopping at the corner, where he was sure he was the tallest, the child looked over the side and, careful not to fall overboard, examined the craftsmanship of the vessel. There used to be intricately drawn dragons and ornate figures of gods, but now what remained was the faded reminder of the sea's cruel ways. He watched the paint, as if it would magically change into its once-vibrant look, and the dragons would come to life. He knew they wouldn't, but when you've been out on the sea for quite a while, dreaming was an escape of the madness. In his mind, the dragons danced along the sides of the ship, taunting the boy and wishing him to join their banter. They slithered around the planks, claws making little scratch marks in the already-abused wood, hissing in delight. The boy outstretched his hand to them, getting down on all fours and extending his arm past the railing to touch these creatures, and they would douse him in sea spray.

"Hong Kong!"

All at once, the dragons lay still. They stopped in their tomfoolery, for their master would be angry with them. The boy knew he was in trouble because the dragons daren't move; even when he stretched his arm further to reach them they stayed silent.

It was useless to coax the creatures back, so he stood up, brushed off his trousers, and scampered to the captain of the ship.

Obviously the child's age was measured more accurately when he stood next to his mentor; he only reached the adult's hip.

"What have I told you about hanging over the side of the ship?" the captain asked. He looked extremely worried of something.

"To not to," the boy replied, looking at his feet in guilt. He also glanced at the shoes of his teacher, and marveled at how beautiful they were. That was one of the reasons the boy enjoyed sailing on the open seas. He wanted beautiful things like the captain; he wanted to live out on the sea. It was exhilarating to see what was found on the travels. So he continued to enjoy the beauty of the shoes…Until he was scolded again.

"Hong Kong! Pay attention when I talk to you, aru."

The child held his head where he was slapped in a brief moment of shock. "Oh, I'm sorry, Teacher. What was it that you said?" he asked, his gaze trailing up the silk outfit. More dragons danced along the cloth, but this time they paid no mind the ragamuffin, like he wasn't worthy of their attention. He scowled a bit at this, but continued up the path until his eyes met with the eyes of his "brother". He closely examined the dark gold eyes and their concern for the boy's lack of discipline, the ivory and jade earrings that were only worn to prove he could wear them, the thin line his mouth made for being disrespected….Actually, it was scary, especially since he was twice the child's size.

"I said, 'why are you not allowed to hang over the side of the ship', aru."

A prolonged silence only further angered the elder nation. "Answer me!" he said, a quiver of rage lacing his otherwise flat voice.

"Because I might fall into the sea."

"And?"

"And you won't save me."

"Because?" It seemed as if he was only taunting the boy by asking more questions.

"Because you don't mollycoddle children."

Satisfied, the elder nation ruffled the boy's hair and shoved him away. "Go, aru. I'm sure we'll be making land soon, and I need you hidden away."

The cries of the gulls were back, now in a battle for the child's attention with the crashing waves. He stayed only a moment longer, to watch the captain's dragons dance in an intimidating fashion across his shirt.

Oh, how he wished to be a pirate.

"And who might you be?" The question had an alarming tone to it, because when those words spilled out of Hong Kong's mouth, he was received with a large grin.

The man was overly dressed in what looked to be red velvet, white cotton, and an array of various plumages from different birds; what caught the child's eye was the white ostrich feather tucked so carelessly into the tricorne resting on a mess of golden hair. He was European.

He had an eye patch over his left eye; Hong Kong remembered when China would wear one to help with the sickness of the waves rocking his old ship. He resisted the urge to ask, in case he was wrong, and the man was missing an eye.

"Pardon the intrusion," the man replied, bowing low to the ground with his hat now in his hand, "But I heard of exotic wonders in this land, and I feel the need to point out it's nice to share." He looked up, body still lowered, so that he and Hong Kong were looking into each other's eyes. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. I am England."

"Wang Jialong. Hong Kong," Hong Kong said, with much less gusto. "I'm afraid we have nothing exotic here."

England straightened himself out and re-donned his tricorne. "Well, maybe not to you," he said, examining the rings on his hand; they were emerald, like his eyes, and set in a gold band that rivaled the Asian boy's own eyes, "But to me they're exotic." He looked uninterested as he said this, but the smile stayed plastered to his face.

Hong Kong frowned. "What I meant to say is we have nothing exotic here for you. You have no purpose being here."

"Oh, tsk, you don't seem to understand. Then again, how could you? You're only a child, so I'll explain this to you in the simplest of ways. You see, I'm a pirate, and when pirates are denied what they want…They get it anyway."

This made the boy giggle. "Sir, you can't be a pirate." England looked confused by this statement so Hong Kong continued with his story. "Do you honestly think you'd be able to do much in that outfit? I can see the practicality of the eye patch, and even your hat, but everything else looks like it's only for decoration." Now the blonde took a questioning glance to what he was wearing: Newly-polished boots, ruffled dress shirt, Long overcoat with gold tassels—Bullocks to what the boy said, England thought he looked the part of a true captain.

"Would your mind change if I was a captain?"

"Not in the slightest."

What was wrong with this child? Not look like a captain? Captains weren't usually meant to fight themselves (they did, but not as often as they told other people to do it for them), and not only that, he was in his best outfit just for the encounter with royalty or something. He was trying to make an impression, and all this boy had told him was he looked silly and wasn't a pirate.

"What would you know about being a pirate?" England asked, his patience thinning.

"Well, sir, Teacher used to be a pirate, back in the 13th century, but he gave that up," Hong Kong replied sweetly, "And I would go with him all the time."

How quaint. "So your teacher looked nothing like I do now?"

The boy shook his head back and forth. "No."

Multiple times the thought of just shooting the boy and carrying on with whatever he was set to do came across England's mind, but something about Hong Kong made him always shake the thought away. He was, however, a bit aggravated. "Well, who's your teacher?"

"My brother."

Not the answer he was looking for. "Let's narrow that down a bit more, shall we? What is your brother's name?"

"Wang Yao."

"And he is…?"

"China."

Aha! Now they were getting somewhere. Well, it was a good thing he didn't get rid of the child; he would prove useful in finding China and taking his treasures (women, jewels, food, etc.). England smiled yet again. "Well, as I said earlier, it is rather nice to share."

"I won't deny this."

"And you have no power over me."

"I won't deny this."

England subconsciously reached for his pistol, not intending to use it, but to intimidate the boy. "So I suggest you take me to China. I would like to discuss….important….matters with him."

Hong Kong looked less than impressed with the firearm, but extended his arm out to grab England's hand. England noticed how small the child's hand was in his own, and started to wonder exactly how intelligent he was for his age. He certainly wasn't that big, about the size of a small child just starting schooling, but his vocabulary was extraordinarily developed.

The child then led England out of the harbor, into the village, past the village, and to an ornate palace. England was quite impressed with the building, and even more impressed with the decorations inside. Jade, emerald, porcelain, copper, silver, gold, silk, anything rich and luxurious was found in every room. There were large stone statues of…dog-lion-dragon things that seemed to be guarding certain doors; tapestries of epic tales hung along the walls; marble dragons greeted England with their coy smiles.

"You're saying you live here?" he had to ask. Hong Kong looked like he didn't belong in this place; rather, he belonged out on the wharf.

"If by 'live here' you mean I'm here for food and shelter, then yes," the boy said. "Stay here; I'll go tell Teacher he has a visitor." Leaving England in a room filled with particularly rare arefacts probably wasn't a smart idea, but that's what Hong Kong did, striding into the next room and quietly shutting the door behind him.

England took the time to examine the decoration of the room. Small, ornate figures of soldiers or mythical creatures (Maybe they were real; he couldn't say for sure) poised for battle on the tabletops; several vases of various sizes on pillars…He quite liked China's style.

He was close to nicking a small figure of a pink marble tiger with its claws outstretched when the door swung open and Hong Kong's head poked out. The pirate let go of the stone creature and nervously hid his hands behind his back.

"Ah….Right, well," Hong Kong said, noticing how fast the European man let go of the figurine, "You may come in now."

The first thing England noticed when he came into the room (with a small shade of pink on his face for being caught trying to take the statuette) was the colour. The room was heavily coloured in red fabrics and cherry wood furniture. The only deviation was the gold trimming and the white flowers. There were three people in the room; Hong Kong, who stood by the door, a delicately-dressed woman seated near a window toward the back of the room, and England himself. This confused England for a moment.

"Uhm," he said to Hong Kong, who continued to play the part of, what, a little guard? How cute.

The woman sat up from her perch and gave a cold stare at England. She was painted up in the same red that covered the room, and had the same golden eyes as the trimming. Long, dark hair, similar to Hong Kong's, was pulled back out of her face. She was quite pale for an Oriental woman, matching that of the white flowers. The only difference was she had a brush of pink across her nose, blushing.

England didn't quite know what to do, so he bowed, keeping his eyes on the girl. He treated her as a cobra: if you dared to look away, the serpent would strike and you would be dead. He erected himself, now, trying to figure out what to say. "I'm…here to see Wang Yao?" He sounded unsure, which made the woman laugh.

"Hong Kong has already told me that, aru. So what is it you wish to say?" Her voice fell like thick, caramelized honey. She waved away Hong Kong, signaling for him to leave the two to their discussion. Hong Kong bowed silently and left.

England theorized that China was simply too busy to speak with him and sent an advisor to occupy him. He was certainly occupied, all right. He brushed away thoughts that danced in his mind to repeat what he had said to Hong Kong, with a little more detail to it.

The woman smiled coyly at what was included in the treasures. "Yes, sharing is a nice thing, aru. Pray you tell what you would be sharing with me?"

Beauty and brains? England was impressed. He took off the tricorne and lifted his eye patch to get a better look at her. She was now sitting away from the blonde, leaning against the wall and looking bored of the conversation already.

"Are you going to answer me?" she asked, a ribbon of annoyance wrapped around her tongue. It was then England realized that he had never answered her question.

"A thousand pardons," the pirate responded, given only a scowl as a reply. "But aren't I a guest in your home? And as such, shouldn't I be given a welcoming gift?"

The woman stood up, now, taking a step towards a surprised England. "You may be my guest," she started, a fierce look in her eye despite the smile on her face, "but you came uninvited, aru. I will not allow your flippant attitude to—"

She was cut off when Hong Kong swung the door open. "Teacher? You have diplomatic visitors."

England made a confused face. Wait, wasn't the boy's teacher his brother? Did he have more than one teacher? The Chinese were confusing.

"Thank you, Hong Kong. Please escort…I'm sorry, you never told me your name, aru."

"Arthur Kirkland, the embodiment of England."

"I am Wang Yao; you may call me China."

"Alright, so maybe things aren't going exactly as planned."

England looked over his notes of the past week. It seemed that someone had tried to poison Sir John Bowring with arsenic, only to fail by lacing bread with too much of the poison. More reports of suspected piracy. Nothing too severe. This war was childish. Didn't China learn his lesson the first time? Obviously not. England set aside the papers and looked out the window of his ship, where he could see the shores and various merchant ships. He sighed and reminisced about his own glory days as a pirate. But that was when he was naïve. He remembered how he was laughed at by that little boy…What was his name? And then he remembered meeting China, and how much of a porcelain doll he looked like. Now China looked like a mess, the effects of this war taking a heavier toll on him than it did on France or England. America only had a small part in it, so England did not count him.

"Sir?"

England looked up. Standing in the doorway was his helmsmen, a small dao at his throat and one arm being twisted behind his back by a strangely familiar boy.

"Hello, Kirkland."

He had grown since England had seen him last. No longer was he half the size of England, now he was a young adult. His tawny eyes were narrowed, studying England for any sort of reaction, but England would not give him the satisfaction of showing his surprise.

"And what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" England asked, now giving Hong Kong his full attention.

Hong Kong hid his sword away, pushing the seaman to the ground. England noticed how unnerved his helmsman looked despite having had a sword dangerously close to his neck, and mentally noted to himself to give that man a raise. He looked back at Hong Kong.

"I just wanted to tell you I overtook one of your ships." He looked extremely smug in saying this.

"That's impressive."

"By myself." Hong Kong leaned on one of England's tables and waved his hand about in a "It's no big deal" fashion.

England cocked an eyebrow. By himself? Either his men were weak, or Hong Kong was lying. Then again, he did manage to hijack the ship without England noticing.

"So…what? Are you trying to get a 'congratulations' out of me?" England asked. "Do you want some sort of prize?"

Hong Kong, obviously amused with himself, strode over to the desk England was sitting at, and slammed his hands down. "I want you to know this is how a true pirate looks."

England was taken aback by the action. His expression faltered, but he quickly composed himself. Then he took Hong Kong's advice, and gave the boy a look-over. Alligator teeth hung around his neck, a broadsword at his waist, and another, smaller sword tied to his leg, fine clothing, suggesting wealth…The most menacing aspect of his outfit, England noticed, was the dragon pattern.

"A true pirate, hm?"

Hong Kong said nothing.

"I've seen better."

This made the intruder frown. "You have no authority to say that."

England chuckled, and shook his head. "I believe, given the current situation, I do. Your form of piracy is a barbaric form. I was a gentleman in the art of theft. And," he said, standing up, making Hong Kong tense, "I'm sure you could be better."

Hong Kong, still locked in a defensive position, questioned, "How so?"

"Imagine this," England said, circling around the desk to stand face to face with the boy; he was about a head taller. "When I first met you, you told me I looked nothing like a pirate."

"Not true; I said your eye patch and hat were fine."

"Alright, _fine_, you said most of me looked nothing like a pirate. I explained I was a captain. You still didn't care, and claimed that China was a pirate before me, and looked nothing like me. Pirates fight quite often, yes? Are you saying that China is far more skilled in the art of war?"

"Yes," was the simple reply.

"Explain how he is losing this war."

"He— …" Hong Kong cut off his sentence. This was quite a predicament. England was right, in a way. "What is your point?" he asked, brushing away the question.

"I could teach you how to be a far better pirate than China ever was."

Hong Kong kept silent for an awful long time, mulling over the idea. Finally, he breathed out a withheld sigh. "Alright."

The dragons hissed and danced in displeasure along Hong Kong's shirt.


End file.
